


All the Bright Places

by cjbloomfield



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, I can only write AUs sorry, LGBTQ Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjbloomfield/pseuds/cjbloomfield
Summary: Bright places can exist even in dark times...During the process of healing and rebuilding their family, the Barba's must reevaluate the important aspects of their life.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 37





	1. Bright places exist in infinite capacities

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @justabensonfanatic for being my sounding board, I know I can be a bit neurotic, so thank you so much for dealing with me :3

Emilia Isabella Barba is your average outgoing, charismatic, intelligent 12-year-old girl—as average as any offspring of Olivia Benson and Rafael Barba could be—she’d gotten her father’s brains and unfortunately for her mother, his mouth; ever the quick-witted and first to talk herself out of trouble. Emilia is the epitome of the perfect combination of both parents. In the duel for genes, she’d won her mother’s passion—her heart, her fire, her fight, her eyes—quite literally and how she perceives the world. Emilia has her father’s pointy sculpted nose, his cheekbones, even though she inherited her mother’s full lips (and shapely figure) she had her father’s smile. Her personality was all her own, spunky, fiery yet sweet, bubbly, and humorous; if you ask her brother, she’d inherited that from him.

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Emilia forked her eggs uninterestingly.

“You can ask us, anything sweetie, you know that. And nothing you have to ask will ever be stupid.” Her mother offers, giving her stamp of approval.

“Why’d you guys name me Emilia?”

“Oh, I love this question!” Rafael erects his back, leaning into the conversation. “When I first saw you in your mother’s arms, I just knew you already. I knew we had to give you a powerhouse of a name, something strong, beautiful, and unique—just like you.” Rafael placated his daughter with butterfly kisses along her hairline.

“He’s lying.” Noah pitched in. “They’ve been working on that story for 12 years. I saw you when they first dropped you off, on this planet. You were wrinkly and gross.” Noah smirked. “Your name is Emilia because that’s the alien version of Olivia, Papí wanted to honor your birth species but also name you after mom,” Olivia smacked Noah on the back of his head as Emilia stuck her tongue out.

“Noah, do you have to be such an—“ he covers Emilia’s ears before whispering, “ass?” Olivia makes her way across the table to slap her lover upside the head.

“Do not call my son an ass,” she warned fondly.

“Olivia! Emma’s ears were wide open!” He rubbed the gentle sting.

“Trust me, she’s probably heard a lot worse in public school.” She places a soft kiss at the base of his neck.

“Hey! I didn’t get a soothing kiss,” Noah pouts at his mother.

“Stop telling my daughter she’s an alien and you won’t have any injuries that need a kiss to be soothed.” She scrunches her face in her son’s direction.

“It was just _my son_ moments ago.”

“Both those statements can coexist.” She pulls his nearly empty plate from under him, getting ready to scrape the remnants of breakfast from his plate into the garbage bin below the sink.

“Moooom! I wasn’t done!” Noah whines with his mouth full, as his mother shoots him an _‘are you serious right now?’_ glare, her eyes toggling between the two bites of eggs, half-eaten strawberry, the crust of his toast, and his surely deflating face.

“Noah, the plate was empty.” She deadpanned as Emilia’s chuckles filled the open space of the Manhattan apartment. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, that’s disgusting.” Olivia rolls her eyes.

“Cariño, our son is going to eat us out of a home.” Rafael looks his ever-growing little boy over, melting internally, he reminisced thinking of how he’d watched his son grow over the past fourteen and a half years.“Remember when we’d have to chase him around the couch just to get him to eat?” Rafael’s eyes softened at the blues smiling back at him.

“Now, it’s like we can’t get him to stop,” Olivia grumbled softly.

“I’m really feeling the love here, mom.” Noah reached over to steal a slice of bacon off his little sister’s plate.

“Hey—Noah!” Emilia groaned. “I’m gonna have to start eating in a vaulted safe, to keep your grubby hands away.” She licked her bagel before he could even consider reaching over to steal it.

“That’s just gross,” his face grew into a partial grimace.

“Can you stop acting like we don’t feed you and go finish getting ready for school?” Olivia folds her arms across her chest ready and waiting for his response.

“Emma is—“

“Already, ready with her backpack resting at her feet, stop talking back and go finish getting dressed.” Olivia’s tone was stern yet filled with affection. Noah silently rose from his seat dragging his feet to his bedroom.

“And you little missy, hurry up and finish eating. You’re going to make your dad late for his flight.” Emilia sighed woefully.

“Papí, do you have to go to DC? You just got back from Seattle yesterday?” Emilia pouted, at her core, she was a daddy’s girl. Of course, she loved her mother with every fiber of her being but she and Rafael shared the same mind. Oh, how she has him wrapped around her little finger.

“This is my last trip for the rest of the year, then I’ll be right here until you’re sick of me and green in the face.” He moved to tickle her, she dropped her fork, breaking out in a fit of giggles.

With summer a mere week and a half away, Emilia was ecstatic. Rafael usually taught only one in-person class two days a week and two online lectures during the summer. Olivia couldn’t stop the smile from overwhelming her face as she watched two of the three loves of her life interact; her smile reflected the one painted on his face, as her other half beamed down at the little girl they created _together_.

“Emilia, start chewing or I’m sending Noah after what’s left on that plate.”

“Yes, captain!” Emilia answers as she raises her arm in a triumphant salute before shoveling two forkfuls of eggs into her mouth.

Rafael high fives his daughter while trying his best to stifle his laugh. Olivia tidies up after the mess she’d made while preparing breakfast, a cold brush of her air stops her in her tracks, slowly she turns on her heels as if she was having a moment of reverse déjà vu like a dream she can’t quite place.

“Why?” Leaves her lips before she can process the sudden feelings bubbling up inside her.

“Did you say something, love?” Rafael breaks away from the mindless banter he’d been holding with his daughter moments before.

“Why’d you ask why we named you Emilia?” Olivia fully turned her body toward her daughter, pressing her lower back into the counter behind her.

“Oh, um...” her voice trailed off. “Just some kids at school were giving me a hard time telling me my name was spelled wrong. That’s all.”

“Who?” Noah inquired, clearing the distance from his bedroom to his seat at the kitchen table in record time.

“Don’t answer that!” Olivia warned. “Your brother seems to be going through a phase of thinking he can solve his problems with his fists.”

“Twice, mom. It happened twice.”

“Twice, is twice too many. Twice in the last two months? Come on mijo, we taught you better than that.” Rafael admonished his son.

“I’m trying my best, I really am, but sometimes I just get so angry I can’t think straight and my body just reacts.” Noah’s eyes are glued to his shoes, deep down he’d been fighting the anger, researching, practicing, taking whatever he has to, to get the anger to subside so maybe his parents can love him again—in the way they used to, in the way that feels unabridged, unconditional, sans the worry that he is going to turn out like his sperm donor.

Every night before resting his eyes, he cries his heart’s content—the sobs he muffles into his pillow; for the horrors, the darkest parts of his mind can fathom, for his insufficiencies, for the worry he can’t seem to quell in his mind or his parents’, for the fury that bubbles inside of him as a result of him ruining everything. Did he eat too much? Is he too loud? Too talkative; why didn’t he know when to shut his mouth? Is he too reactive? Should he have said that to his sister? Does he make his parents proud? Can he try harder to do better? To be better? Did they think he was slacking off in school because he got a B- in physics? Do they still love him even after he fails to curb his wrath? Why can’t he be more like his father? But wait—isn’t he? Similar to his birth father in more ways than he or anyone ever wanted?

He was tired, Noah was so damn tired of arguing with God—more like himself. He felt like his cries fell on deaf ears—as if he’s being punished for the sins of his birth father. He felt like no one was listening. He tried to talk to his Abuela, but she kept pushing the God narrative, he didn’t have the heart to tell her that God didn’t like him very much. That he felt like God was ignoring him. If God _really_ cared about him and is the powerful all-knowing as she’d taught him, why’d he have to be the byproduct of anger, violence, and desperation? Why couldn’t he be of half Olivia and half Rafael, like his little sister? If nature vs. nurture is true why did he have to fight every moment of his life to be _normal?_

“Noah?” Olivia’s voice is undercut by worry, “Is everything alright?” She places her hand on his back noticing her son spaced out, with a very distinct faraway look drilled into the crevices of his face, he turns away from her burning gaze as the tears fighting their way to the surface glaze over the harsh blues in his troublesome orbs. With his sleeve, he makes quick work of wiping the freshly budding tears out of his eyes.

“Uh, ye—“ he clears his throat, to rid the tearful tone from his voice, “Yeah, we should go so we aren’t late.” The resonance in his voice is wavering and unsteady. Noah doesn’t spare a moment for questions, he throws a single strap over his shoulder and bolts toward the front door.

The Barba’s load into the SVU silently, Noah glances out the window, taking in the sights he sees every single day as his mind runs rampant. The sound from the radio is low, barely heard over Rafael filling the silent gaps with light conversation with Olivia.

Emilia studies her brother’s posture—he curled into himself, he must be digging into himself—a hole so deep and vast he’d never be able to climb his way out, she thought. With his left arm tucked under his jaw, pillowing his cheek to the cool denim fabric, his forehead pressed against the tinted bulletproof glass, as his right arm rests easily on the black leather of the middle seat next to him. She grabbed his right hand with her palm perpendicular to his and wrapped her fingers around the back of his hand. He turned his head at the touch of her hands, her hands were baby soft, but she could move mountains with them. He rotated his palm parallel to hers and interlocked their fingers.

“I love you, Noah,” she spoke so softly her gentle voice is barely audible—he had no clue how she always knows the reassurance he needed, but she always did and always offered them plainly. There was no fighting back the tears as a deluge of them surfaced.

“I love you too, Em.” The tears evident in his hushed tone as Emilia unbuckled her seatbelt, scooting to the middle seat to be near her brother; her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be heavily focused on the family relationship and mainly the children. I am giving fair warning this work might be dark to some and kinda heavy (starting in chapter two or three) if I can execute it properly, if not, I will be deleting it (:


	2. Storge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storge {"store-jay"} or familial love

“Hey, you’re Emilia, right?” A dirty blonde athletic built boy with piercing blue eyes jogs up behind Emilia and her best friend, Valentína.

“I’ll just catch you later,” Valentína smirks, shooting her best friend a side-eye glance.

“Val!” Emilia grumbles, reaching out to stop her departing friend, squinting at her eyes warningly, as Valentína shimmies out of her hold. Reluctantly she meeting the stranger's nebulous gaze, she replied, “Emilia, yup, that’s me.” She waves awkwardly at the boy towering over her, by at least five inches.

“Well, Emilia,” he smolders at her as she tries her best to suppress her eye roll. “My Name is Abraham, but _you_ can call me, Abe.” He winks at her. His flirting is so thickly coated, Emilia, grows uncomfortable as the potential teenage heartthrob overexerts his best moves on the unsuspecting and unwarranted seventh-grader. _God, was he barking up the wrong tree._ “You know, I think you’re pretty cute.” He swivels in her direction, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in a slightly awkward position due to their height difference.

“Uh, Thanks? Is it Abe?” Emilia pivots to escape his grasp.

“Abe. Abe Jackson,” he winks at her again, Emilia bites her inner cheek to stop herself from physically gagging in his face.

“How do you know me?” Emilia looked him over in utter confusion.

“I’m Abe Jackson, I know everyone. I’m the captain of the football and soccer teams.” He leaned against the lockers behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So you’re in the 8th grade...” her voice trailed off as he nodded in confirmation. “What is it exactly that you want with me?” She raised a single eyebrow.

“Let me take you on a date.” He tilts his head back, shifting his shaggy bangs out of his face.

“Oh, no. My parents don’t let me date.” She shrugged, ready to turn on her heels, prepared to take the first escape route, eyes searching the emptying hall.

“I’m good at keeping secrets if you are, we can be boyfriend and girlfriend at school. Your parents never have to know.”

“I don’t keep secrets from my parents.” She reassured him, “I barely know you, Abraham, why do you want _me_? I’m sure you could have anyone in the school.” She prodded his ego in hopes to let him down gently.

“That’s true, but with you, it seems like I’ll enjoy the chase.” Emilia pinched her nose bridge in desperation. “At least let me walk you home, maybe I can get to know you a bit better.” His voice is filled with suggestion.

“No thank you. My older brother is waiting for me outside, it’d be best if I don’t keep him waiting.” She steps past him, focused on making her way out of the situation.

“Older? How old? I’m sure I can take him.” He follows behind her, encouragingly.

“He’s 16. He packs a pretty mean punch, I suggest you stay clear of him, he has an unpredictable temper.” She fibbed a bit in her own best interest, she could see the uneasiness rise in his startling crystal clear blue orbs. She noted, nothing about his blues brought her comfort, they were nothing like her brother's warm pools of blue, Abe’s eyes were unsettling—crazy even.

“Emilia?” Noah peaks his head into the double doors, scanning the hall for his little sister.

“That’s my ride, gotta go!” She sprints down the hall, the sound of her rubber soles squeaking against the freshly polished and buffed linoleum floors.

“Woah, who lit a fire under you?” Noah intercepted the asteroid hurtling towards him in his arms to stop her from speeding past him.

“Unwanted male attention.” She uttered breathlessly.

“Male attention? Who?” Noah had that protective glint in his eye and a wary edge to his voice.

“He’s not important, Noh.” She waved off his burning question.

“Does he know you’re gay?” Noah plucked the thick six subject binder and the stack of freshly graded assignments out of his little sister’s grasp, holding onto them for her as they started their trek home.

“ _Gay_ is such a strong word. I never said I wasn’t attracted to males?” Even she sounded unsure of the words leaving her mouth—in all honesty, she was still trying to figure it out, herself. She is lucky enough to have a brother who doubles as her sounding board—he’d never repeat something she told him in secrecy. Emilia was slightly winded by the thought of going through this journey of self-discovery without her brother by her side, shaking that thought out of her head she tuned back into the conversation at hand.

“I never said you weren’t attracted to men, but you’re also attracted to women, so that makes you gay, even if it’s just little gay.” Noah attempted to explain himself, he very well understood his little sister was still in the discovery stage of her sexuality, he didn’t want to push any labels on her that she wasn’t ready to accept just yet.

“Can you not say that so loud?” Emilia scopes out their surroundings self consciously, completely mortified if someone might’ve overheard their conversation.

“We’re alone on this street,” Noah dispels her fears, “You afraid of Papí hearing us all the way from DC?”

“What if mom is out on a case and standing in that alleyway and hears us? She works all of Manhattan, she can literally be anywhere at any time.” Her wandering eyes sweep every nook and cranny of the street, as she occupies her fidgeting fingers by shoving her hands deep in her pocket, wishing she had her binder to preoccupy her idle fingers.

“You really are paranoid, Em. I wonder which parent you got that from.” Noah jests, Emilia pulls her busy hands out of her pocket to stimulate her buzzing fingers.

“Mom,” they simultaneously answer the rhetorical question he’d posed moments before.

Noah transfers the parcels into his right arm pressing them against his chest, he takes his left hand slipping his digits in between his sisters, lacing them together. “No matter who you love or what sexuality you identify as, I hope you know they’ll always love you. I will always love you—no matter what.” Her wispy honey browns searched the depths of his unabridged blues. He meant every word from the bottom of his heart.

“Even if I become a murder or a thief?” Emilia inquired sarcastically, as she fished through the front pocket of her backpack for the key to their apartment. She hands the key to Noah who unlocks the door quickly, pushing it open before he speaks.

“In the very rare occasion that will happen, given who our parents are—I’d be right next to you. You know, partners in crime, forever.” Noah smirks stepping through the entryway, he was met by an inquisitive voice.

“Partners in crime, with whose parents?” Olivia’s voice ricochets through the empty apartment amplifying the resonance in her voice.

“Jesus Christ—“

“—See!” They spoke simultaneously, Emilia indicating her mother’s unexpected presence with a pointed arm in Olivia’s direction.

“See what?” Olivia’s smile is bright and fixated on her children’s flustered outward appearance.

“That doesn’t even count, she _lives_ here.” Noah countered his sister's argument.

“And somehow we were still startled by her presence.” Emilia rolled her eyes fondly.

“Yeah, what are you doing home this early mom? Don’t you like have a city to save?”

“Cute.” She flared her nostrils. “Today was slow,” she whispered the latter part of the statement looking around for any offending ears, “So I came home to greet my babies and make them dinner, is that against the law?”

“No, captain make away!” Emilia saluted her mother once again before taking off down the hall toward her room.

“You’ve been home and you made us walk? And here I thought you loved us.” Noah wisecracks.

“I’m walking away from you now,” Olivia grins like a Cheshire Cat as she shrugs, turning on her heels, Noah’s chuckles plié over her eardrums. “I want homework done in the kitchen today!”

“Okay, mom!” They alert her, that she’d been heard.

* * *

Noah drops his textbooks carelessly against the marble island, groaning in preparation for his four pages of physics homework.

“Do you have to be so...loud?” Emilia looked up from her Algebra I review worksheet.

“One cannot simply silence the peril AP Physics summons into their life.”

“And dramatic to boot. You should really consider picking up a theater extracurricular.” She elbows his side when he scoots too closely.

“Ah! I’ve been mortally wounded!” She rolls her eyes so often at him, she wonders if they could actually get stuck back there. “Alas, the pain is too vast! I cannot completeth my physics final review homework.” Noah half collapses on his sister’s upper body, catching her off guard.

“If you hate physics that much, why’d you even take it?” Emilia pushed his increasingly growing and sturdy body away.

Noah couldn’t answer that question honestly, could he actually tell her he needed to prove himself? Prove to their parents he is better than Johnny D? Prove to himself he can be more than the aggressive and violent rapist pimp and drug-addicted prostitute who created him? He couldn’t open that can of worms, at least not now. So instead he offered.

“I’m a masochist?” He diverted his eyes, avoiding her watchful gaze. She, much like their mother was too good at reading him.

“But you’ll consider theater club? It’s a good way to get all those pent up feelings out.” She blinked owlishly, as his neck snapped in her direction, he studied her steady face with piercing scrutiny—how could she possibly know something was bothering him? Did she know him that well? Or are his eyes are too expressive? He could never hide, not even his deepest worries from them.

“Between AP physics, baseball, dance, and my other six classes; I don’t even have the time to be sitting here talking to you.” He shrugged weakly.

“You work so hard, Noh. I’m scared you’re gonna burn out.” She turned in her seat, knees pointed in his direction as she anchored her attention on him.

 _Why? Because I’m not smart enough? Not enough? Not you?_ He held back the rude retort sauntering across his tongue as the underlying bate flared up inside him once again. He’d rather take a million smites to the tongue than to lash out at his undeserving little sister, who only spoke with a pure heart and clear intentions. His angry glare sliced across the page of Newtonian mechanics, some confusing garbage, he’d never understand—who would ever need rotational dynamics and angular momentum? Why did he need stupid fucking physics to be the next commanding officer of SVU? Or the next best professional baseball player? Or hell, even a Broadway dancer? He was just wasting his time and efforts, either way. It’s not like anyone was noticing anyway.

“Don’t worry about me, Em. I’m doing what I have to, to make it.” With his brows furrowed until his mouth turned grim, he sighed. It felt hopeless.

“Noah, you can talk to me, you know that right?” She eyed him demurely.

“I know, Emma I—I know.” He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, he couldn’t bring himself to say it, and that broke his heart. But of course, the _only_ emotion he could process is _anger_ —but not for the first time, he was angry with himself. “Sometimes I think I need therapy.” He grumbles, reaching for his pencil.

“So what’s stopping you?” She stares fixedly at her unraveling brother.

“It’s expensive and there are people who need it more than me, who have actual problems,” _and not birth defects_ he left off the end of his statement.

“There’s no shortage of therapists the last time I checked.”

“Oh, yeah? And when was that?” His mood brightens a bit.

“This morning before we left for the airport. I get live updates.” She bumped him with her shoulder.

“Really, Emma, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” He puts her weary mind to rest. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll try out theater club next year. And maybe if I’m good at it, we can star in a production together when you get to high school.”

“No, thank you! They’d probably cast us as Romeo and Juliet.” They both cringed at the thought.

“But do I get to be Juliet?” Noah deadpans before folding into himself in a myriad of pitchy guffaws.

“You aren’t funny.”

“But you’re smiling! You want to laugh, just let it out.”

“What’s so funny you two?” Olivia enters the kitchen after ending her phone call, setting out to finish dinner.

“Not a thing. Noah was just laughing at his own jokes again.” Emilia admits.

“Valentína thinks I’m funny,” Noah muttered earning him an elbow to the ribs. Noah swallows the groan.

“Why would you say that?” Emilia whispers in a panic.

“I can’t even say her name?” Noah asks under his breath.

“Mom’ll know! She’s a detective, this is what she’s trained to do.” She breathes softly.

“You’re seriously paranoid, Valentína is your best friend. She’s not going to think anything of it.” Noah murmurs.

“Your voice was suggestive, Noah.”

“She’s not going to pick up on a once of suggestions if you stop acting nervous and suspicious anytime someone drops her name!”

“Do you two know I have ears? What are you guys whispering about over there?” Olivia asks without deterring her attention away from her executing her task at hand—making dinner; sticky rice, beef, and broccoli.

“I was just telling Emma that baseball practice is going to run over tomorrow because it’s the last practice of the school year until late summer so she should probably walk home with Valentína.” Noah simpers, thinking quick on his feet, even though he hadn’t lied about the information he’d just given his mother, that isn’t what they were discussing.

“Oh, Valentína. How is she? Is everything alright between the two of you?” Olivia appraises the state of her daughter’s best friendship.

“Oh, she’d good. We’re good. We’re great.” Emilia nervously replies.

“Are you sure? She hasn’t been over in a while. Nothing happened between you two?” Olivia delves a little deeper, wondering why her daughter and her best friend who are inseparable hadn’t been spending much time together in the past two or three weeks. Olivia’s eyes caressed her daughter's rigid posture, she began to worry, because that’s what Olivia Benson does best.

“No, nothings happened, I promise,” Emilia reassured her mother.

 _Nothing except you falling in love with your best friend and being unable to sift between the difference in platonic and romantic feelings—and how to not wear one of them on your sleeve. If that counts as nothing._ Noah coughs to cover up the scoff that escaped his lips at the thoughts floating around his mind.

“Alright.” Olivia subtly eyes her very suspicious daughter. “Dinners almost ready,” Sighted out the corner of her eye she sees their glare travel with unnerving thoroughness and a splash of affection, pointed at one another.

“Okay mom,” they respond as their eyes retraced their path back to their homework, silence falling over the room until dinner was ready to be served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intend to use the first couple of chapters to really build the foundation of the family dynamic. This chapter focused heavily on the tight-knit relationship between Noah and Emilia, in the next chapter I plan to have a Benoah scene. I hope you all enjoyed, don't be afraid to kudos and tell me what you think.


	3. One-on-one

“Mommy?” Emilia lightly knocked on her parents’ bedroom door, filled with a certain apprehension, she immediately wanted to turn on her heels and retreat to her room.

“Yes, sweetie?” Olivia closed the book she’d been reading, gently stowing it on the nightstand.

“Can I come in?” She asks timidly, playing with the sleeve of her freshly laundered pair of pajamas.

“Of course, my love, come sit next to momma.” Olivia pats the vacant spot next to her on the bed.

“I wanted to talk to you about something...” Emilia’s voice trailed off, unable to meet her mother’s gaze.

“You can talk to me about anything, sweetheart.” Olivia pulled her daughter’s chin in between her thumb and pointer finger, softly caressing the supple skin underneath them; averting her daughter's attention toward her. “You know that?” Emilia nodded, momentarily getting lost in the intimacy of the eye contact—she hadn’t ever seen brown eyes glow in the dark before, but Olivia’s were glowing like morning sunlight on the bark of a redwood tree.

A million different topics ran across her mind, still locked in direct eye contact with the warmest browns she’d ever seen, Emilia felt lighter. Felt free to speak whatever was weighing heavily on her heart and mind. _Mom, I think I’m gay!_ She wanted to shout at the top of her lungs, but she couldn’t—no she wouldn’t. Not now. This wasn’t about her.

“Emmy?” Olivia scoots closer, “Is everything okay, baby?” Her voice noticeably slows down. _Not really mom, there’s this creepy boy that gives me a bad vibe and you’ve always taught me to trust my gut but I can’t get myself to tell you anything and I don’t know why._ Emilia’s mind races. “Emmy, you’re scaring me.” She pulls her daughter into her arms, as she notes the frantic look reflected in the browns focused on her, “Please, say something.” She twirls several thick strands of dark curls in between her fingers. Emilia pulls away.

“There’s so much I want to say but there’s not enough time.” She bit her bottom lip.

“Time isn’t going anywhere, baby girl?” Olivia tucks a flyaway curl behind her ear, cupping her daughter’s cheeks in her hands, “I’m here now, and I’m listening, there is nothing to be afraid of.”

“I—“ _I wish that were true,_ Emilia sighed. There’s so much to be afraid of. She couldn’t live if she thought her mother would look at her differently because she was attracted to girls. She’s their perfect little girl, she can’t mess that up by being _gay._

_Normalcy._

That’s all she strived for. She’s only 12, what did she know about attraction? Maybe this is just a stage. Maybe her attraction to girls is just a fluke. Maybe Valentína is just situational attraction? Now wasn’t the time to figure out what the hell is wrong with her, she’d come in here to address concerns about her brother who’d been fighting a battle internally for some time now, she couldn’t manage to watch him suffer any longer. She could put a pause on the war raging on inside her to at least help him get through this, even if he didn’t want her help. He couldn’t deny his own mother.

“I think there’s something up with, Noah.” She admits, “He gets in his head a lot, spaces out, looks really scared all the time. And he gets these waves of emotions that he tries so hard to suppress.” Olivia nodded digesting her own concerns that are relatively identical to her youngest child’s.

“I’ve noticed that, too. Your brother seems to be lost in a world of his own and afraid to ask for help. Or too afraid to talk about it.” Emilia bit her lip, snuggling closely into her mother’s warm scent—she smelled of toasted coconut and hibiscus.

“He mentioned he needed therapy but brushed it off as if he isn’t worthy enough.”

“I’ll get to the bottom of it, don’t worry too much about it, okay?”

“Please don’t tell him I told you. I don’t want him to think he can’t trust me anymore, I’d never share his private thoughts if I weren’t scared. He just has this far away look in his eyes when he’s speaking.” She wrapped her arms around Olivia’s middle, silently begging.

“I won’t, baby, I promise.” Emilia’s tears hit Olivia’s silk camisole. “How about we get you tucked into bed, I’ll talk to dad, and then speak to Noah in the morning. How does that sound? Good?” Emilia nods, wrapping her legs around Olivia’s waist. She was starting to get too big to be carried, but Olivia could hold out a few more months before she had the heart to let this go.

Lifting with her knees, she carries Emilia down the hall to her bed, tucking her in snuggly. Olivia hovered over the partially asleep 12-year-old wrapped up in her fluffy fleece blanket, staring down at her in awe, she ran her fingers through the tiny tangles littering Emilia’s unbrushed hair. She loved this little girl so much, she was a blessing, their little miracle. Olivia was told by specialist after specialist that pregnancy just wasn't an option for her—they could never tell her what was wrong, but the only consensus every fertility speacialst could agree upon was that there something was gravely wrong with her reproductive system. Until one day she couldn’t stomach the smell of coffee in the precinct, with her head stuffed into the ceramic bowl as she dry heaved her stomach’s contents, she cried not wanting to believe she carried life inside of her. Not wanting to get her hopes up yet again. But now as her gaze dipped to the bundle of dozing joy beneath her, her heart filled with love. An endless unconditional bounty of warmth washes over her in gratitude, sending God a quick thankful prayer for sending her two of the most amazing children and the man that helped her build the life they shared. Quickly wiping her tears, she bent down placing a soft kiss on her temple before mumbling, “I love you so very much, mija.”

* * *

“Rafa?”

“Hm?” The barely awake man on the other end of the phone chimes.

“Do you think we’re being too hard on him?”

“Hard on, whom?”

“Noah,” she rolled her eyes, “you know, the sole purpose we’re on FaceTime right now?”

“And here I thought you missed me so dearly you called me at the ass crack of dawn just to see my beautiful face.”

“I’m not even going to reward that response with an acknowledgment.”

“Just say you hate me and my face and go.”

“I’m gonna need you to dial back the time you spend with our 12-year-old, you’re starting to sound a bit too much like her, it’s getting creepy.” His deep throaty chuckle stirs feelings in Olivia’s lower belly.

“No.”

“No?”

“Noah.”

“Wait, what about Noah?”

“You know, the sole purpose we’re on FaceTime at the ass crack of dawn,” he mocks her lightly with a twinge of sleep still lingering in his voice. “The question you asked, are we too hard on him?” Olivia’s face flushed, embarrassed by how easily she was distracted, she often found herself getting lost somewhere in the gruff sexiness that is Rafael Barba.

“Oh, yeah.” She gnawed her bottom lip.

“It _was_ the face, wasn’t it?”

“The voice,” the pointedly corrected.

“I’m glad my morning voice still makes you as wet and flustered as when we first started all this.”

“I never said a thing about being we—“

“A man knows his woman’s body, and before you try to deny it let’s get back on track. Why do you think we’re too hard on Noah?” She swallows the fib she’d been ready to shell out.

“He’s been so spaced out lately, biting his tongue, stuck in some inner monologue, and whenever I try to ask if he’s okay he finds the nearest escape route.”

“Really?” Rafael sits up in his hotel bed. “I haven’t noticed.” He reflects for a moment. Was he spending enough time with his son? He’d been gone a lot in the past three months, this couldn’t have been _that_ much of a recent occurrence. Maybe he was being too hard on his son—cracking down on him when he was in the midst of an internal conflict really wouldn’t do anyone justice. “Maybe we have been too hard if he’s been going through something we don’t know about—and I was getting on him about a C on his physics exam. When he needed comfort, reassurance, for me to them him I’m proud of him.” He sighed. “What kind of father am I, Liv?”

“You’re an amazing father, Rafa. Don’t you ever doubt that,” She wishes she could physically comfort him, she could see the distress turn over in his uneasy green eyes. “Bet if I asked Noah right now, he’d say you’re the best father he could ever ask for.”

“Please go talk to him, make sure he’s alright.” He pled with Olivia. “I can’t recall the last time I told him I loved him,” Barba mumbled to himself, in utter disgust.

“Hey,” she called his attention, “He loves you, and you love him. He knows that.”

“Eres el amor de mi vida.” He eyes her longingly through the screen.

“Ditto.” She looks away as tears from her yearning heart begin to surface.

* * *

“Hey, Noh. Can I come in for a sec?” Olivia whispers.

“Uh, sure mom.” He sniffles. Olivia noticed the wet discoloration on his pillow and the dried crusted white tear tracks from the corner of his eye to where his cheek met the grief stains on his pillow. She sat down on the edge of his bed, using the palm of her hand to push the unruly curls back, and out of his face so she could get a clear view of his tiresome blues. His face read of a weary teen who’d been fighting a long fight.

“I love you so much, Noah.” Instantly a fresh batch of tears sprang to his eyes. “Do you know that?” She pleas with him to be truthful. He simply shrugs. “You’re my first baby, Noah. How could you ever doubt my love for my sweet boy?” At first, he doesn’t say anything, just cries silently, all his defenses collapsing at once. A gentle hand reaches out; arms cradle a new entry in this complex world. A simple gesture, yet one that will come to signify an infallible bond between two, the bond of a mother’s love.

“Because I remind you of Johnny D.” His voice trembles. He grasps onto that same gentle hand that had pulled him up out of dark places many a time before. 

“What? Is that what you think?”

“I try so hard,” his tearful moment chokes him up, “to—to control my anger but it doesn’t work—nothing I ever try works...” Noah knew from an early age that life was not always going to follow the gentle streams and brooks of his own personal choice, but would go raging down the rivers of its own destructive path. Although he knew the unpredictability and cruelty of life, he did not realize, there would always be a clearing of some sort in the turbulent waters, hand(s) extended to pull him out. Always reaching out, to save him time and time again, repeatedly he would grasp those same gentle hands that pulled me out many times before, and would never cease to as long as they both shall live. The same hand he held onto now as he felt the despair try to cast him out to sea, the warmth of the supple hand in his kept in anchored. 

“You are _nothing_ like that monster that created you.” She laid down in the bed, pulling her son to her chest, relaxing only a bit as she felt him curl up against her—pressing his forehead into her chest, tucking his curls under her chin, and wrapping his arms around her middle. “He was vicious, he was violent, he was remorseless. He was cruel. That’s not you. That’s not my baby boy.”

“I just want to be like you. I want to be _your_ son.” He sobs weakly, even in the pitfalls of vulnerability he still holds back.

“You _are_ my son, Noah.”

“No!” He whimpered into the silk of her camisole. “I want to be your son the way Emilia is your daughter! I want to be part of you and part, Papí.” She held onto him tightly.

“You are, Noah, you are.” She runs her fingers through his curls, knowing how much the feel of fingers on his scalp relax him. “You will always have a part of us in you. We raised you. You took all those lessons we taught you and internalized them. And you have them to pass onto your future generations—bits and pieces of us.”

“I just don’t want to be a monster like him.” He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to be angry.” He exasperated. “I want to be normal! Normal like you! Sensible like Emilia. Level headed like Papí.” Noah’s weeps were filled with pleas of desperation, she could tell he’d do anything to rid himself of the traces of Johnny Drake in his DNA. Olivia couldn’t see any other option, but to come clean. Her son had been suffering from the idea that he is a monster—a battle she’d been fighting her entire life—all alone, while she has the tools to ease his troubling mind.

“I didn’t grow up with a father...” Olivia bites her lip. “My mother was a drunk similar to how Ellie was an addict.” Olivia paused, taking a pregnant pause to organize her thoughts. “My mother was raped on her way home from work one day. That’s how I was created, Noah. In a senseless, violent, and horrific act. You and I aren’t so different. And look at where I’ve gotten in life?”

“Wait?” Noah’s eyes widen, she simply nods.

“You, my son are _not_ a monster. You’re the furthest thing from violence.” He hesitated to believe her. “My son is a gentle and loving soul. You’re the same person as that little five-year-old boy who woke up at three in the morning from hearing his one-year-old sister cry and climbed in her crib to hold her and soothe her because mommy and Papí were tired and you just wanted her to feel better. So you stayed there all night, and held her as she slept until you fell asleep too.” Noah quickly came to see that there was always an avenue of escape, a crutch to lean on; time and time again that his mother's love would come through. He did not know what would possess this wonderful lady in the shape of his mother to do such a thing; to adopt him? To love him so unconditionally he had no idea how he could ever doubt her love? To check on him without his prompting? Didn't she have problems of her own? Responsibilities? He could only begin to imagine, all the things she could be doing instead.

“Mommy?” And for the first time, he allowed Olivia to see his naked vulnerability, stripped down to nothing, just plainly offering himself and all his burdens.

“Yes, baby?” Olivia could see him for the first time in months, she could truly see her son—her little boy.

“I—I love you too.” He confessed.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Her lips pressed into his curls until she reached scalp. Of course, he wasn’t fixed. Her love isn’t some cure-all remedy for his troubles; for his anger. But he was here. Her son is present. The Noah she’d loved and raised has laid down his burdens at her feet, and they could work with that. She could help him grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that since this work has a small audience I'll take my time building up to peripety; more focused chapters on the events and characters while laying the foundation of what I have planned. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, if you stick with me I promise it'll be worth your while. (:


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